Good Girls Don't Get an Afterlife
by Haripoons
Summary: Mikasa is killed by a titan and wakes up 10 years old in a snowy forest? Is she in the afterlife? No way! The universe is playing tricks and Mikasa's been dropped into an alternate universe with witches, wizards, and Hogwarts. May be Levi/Mikasa at some point.
1. Chapter 1

Mikasa opens her eyes with a start. She looks around. She's in a snow covered forest. Her world is white and green. She shivers. It's cold. She looks down and sees that she's wearing nothing more than rags. Where is her survey corps uniform? The last thing she remembers . . . Levi Heicho was fighting the female titan and she got him, surprising him with agility that she hadn't shown before. His legs and arms were torn off and he lay bleeding on the ground. Eren screamed, distracting her and she was a second too late to notice the titan coming up behind her. Her gas was out. She felt her legs snapping in the titan's mouth as everything went black. She numbly heard Eren screaming her name.

Mikasa gasps, startled by the memory. She died, she was eaten by a titan, so why is she still alive? And for that matter, where is she? She looks down at her hands and notices they're abnormally small, the hands lead to a small arm and a small torso. She touches a hand to her face, its chubby with baby fat. Is she . . . a kid?

The cold wind bites into her bare skin. Mikasa prioritizes survival, she'll worry about her body later, right now, she needs to find someplace warm. She stumbles through the forest for what feels like hours until she sees the light of a nearby town. She breathes a sigh of relief, thank god. She wanders past shops, looking for one that's open. As she glances in one of the dark storefront windows, she gasps.

She looks ten years old again. What happened? Mikasa knows she died around age sixteen. Is this an afterlife of some sort where everyone is younger? She sees bright light coming from a pub, she slips in silently, gently closing the door behind her.

A grizzled middle-aged man is behind the bar, wiping down the counter with a wet cloth. Its almost closing time. The circles of drinking men are rowdy but quieting down. Most know they'll have to leave soon.

Mikasa looks at one man's steak hungrily, what she wouldn't give . . . suddenly the steak zips off the man's plate and into her hands. He's too engaged in an argument with his friend to notice.

Mikasa stares in shock at the meat. What had just happened?

The bartender waves her over, "Oy kid," he grumbles, "Ignoring the fact that you shouldn't even be out this late at night, this is a wizard and muggle bar. No using magic in front of the patrons, alright?"

Mikasa looks up at him confused, "That was . . . magic? Magic isn't real."

The man laughs harshly, "Yer a muggle-born then, kid? What are you even doing here at a bar like this anyways? Where're your parents?"

"Dead," Mikasa responds, automatically before covering her mouth. Crap, she isn't home anymore, this is somewhere else. She shouldn't be giving out information freely. There aren't bars like this behind the wall, not anymore. Sure the guards used to drink but now everyone's too busy worrying about the titan's. Or was too busy. Mikasa's not in walled area anymore. She might not even be in the same world. This place has magic, or so the bartender says.

The bartender's eyes widen at her deadpan response, then they narrow. He inspects her. The kid's dressed in rags and has the self-reliant air he's seen from orphans and long-time runaways. She's hungry and doesn't understand magic, and if he lets her go now chances are she'll get killed by a drunk wizard. He makes a snap decision.

"Listen kid, the name's Tom. I've been needing some extra help around here of late, since I can't use magic in front o' the nonmagic folk. You up for the job?" Mikasa nods, she has no where else to stay and this man seems pretty knowledgeable about where she is and what this "magic" is. Tom continues, "Alright, I'll give ya food and a place ta stay if you pull yer weight. Otherwise I'll kick ya out onto tha streets. Got that?"

She nods again.

"What's yer name kid?"

"Mikasa."

"Hmphh, weird name," He mutters, "Is that Japanese or somethin'?"

Mikasa shrugs, mother never told her how she got her name.

Two weeks later the bar is thriving. Tom is shocked at the girl's work ethic. Any other kid would be complaining and whining their eyes out but she stays silently working until he tells her to stop. She washes dishes till they sparkle and clears food and cleans tables just as well. She's practically a full staff packed in to one person.

Tom felt bad not paying her, even providing room and board so he asked her if she wanted anything. The girl, Mikasa, wanted to learn about magic, so he now takes an hour aside every day to tell her about the wizarding world. Every so often he'd quiz her to see if she was paying attention and she feeds his words back verbatim coupled with insightful questions and inferences. She learns at almost an alarmingly fast pace, he muses.

He doesn't regret taking her in though, even the regular patrons love her, they feel she's a novelty of sorts, a little ten year old girl serving drinks and clearing tables like a professional. So far they've been nice, but Tom worries what would happen if someone got to drunk and a fight broke out. No one would notice little Mikasa standing there.

The next day, his worries prove necessary. Two muggles, drunk beyond coherence, get into a fight about the bill and start throwing punches. Tom's about to grab his wand and stop them, he'll obliviate 'em after, Mikasa's right there, he can't let her get hit.

"Please take you fight outside," Mikasa asks them in the voice she used when commanding civilians.

The men leer at her. She looks at them in disgust. If there were titans in this world these men would be dead by now. One of the men raises a hand at her. Tom's eyes widen, and he shouts her name, but she's already moving before he can grab his wand.

Quick as a flash, Mikasa punches the man in the stomach, hard. She tugs the back of his shirt to unbalance him and then kicks him onto the ground. She leans over him with cold eyes, holding the shattered end of his beer bottle right up next to his face. "You need to leave now."

Shocked and frightened, the man and his rowdy friend run out of the bar as all of the other patrons stare in shock. Who is this girl?

Mikasa returns to the back room and starts the dishes, wanting to avoid answering any of the patron's questions. Tom decides not to ask her where she learned to do that and let's her be, but it sure is a weight off his mind that she can take care of herself.

Tom takes her to Diagon Alley a few days later as a special treat. He laughs as she stares in wonder at all the magic in front of her.

"You'll come here to buy yer supplies when you go ta magic school," he tells her, "They've got all the books, wands, pets, and cloaks you'll ever need."

Tom has to pick up a package at Knockturn alley. Slightly worried for her safety he tells her to stick with him and not to get lost. He has to pick up a private package at Borgin & Burkes though, so he tells her to wait just outside the shop and scream if anything happens.

Mikasa watches the dark looking witches and wizards hurrying through the streets. An older man, late thirties to early forties with dark brown hair catches her eye. She sees a witch in the shadows pointing her wand at the man. She knows all about wands and magic now from Tom, and whatever spell that witch is muttering, it probably isn't good, Mikasa wants to scream for the man to look out, but he's too far away. She sees the witch aiming her wand with an uncast spell glowing on the end.

Mikasa runs towards the man to push him out of the way but he's still too far. She runs as fast as she can, shoving through the crowd, but she's not going to reach him in time, she's too far away, he'll be hit. Suddenly Mikasa gasps and feels like her body is being sucked in through a vacuum. She appears a split second later in front of the man, just in time to push him out of the way, though she gets hit by the spell instead.

The man stumbles and turns around, wand out, and looks at her in shock. Mikasa coughs, she feels like her body is being ripped in half, she feels the blood dripping down her torso. It hurts . . she tries to stay conscious but she can't, she's slipping away . . . the last thing Mikasa sees is the brown haired man running forward to catch her.


	2. Chapter 2

chapter 2

Mikasa opens her eyes to Tom and the brown-haired man engaged in a heated argument. She glances around the room barely lifting her eyelids, the light in the room is bright. She's in a white room and lying on a bed with soft sheets. The door is cracked open, and outside, women in white shifts with red plus signs on them are hurrying throught the hallways pushing carts and carrying clipboards.

"Ya can't take the girl," Tom hisses, trying not to wake Mikasa, unaware that she's already up.

The brown-haired man gives him an amused glance, "And why is that, Tom?"

"Ya know why," Tom spits, "Yer a Dolohov. One of the foremost dark magic families in th'whole wizarding world, and rumored followers of the newest Dark Lord."

The man's eyes narrow, "She needs a stable home," he sneers derisively, "Or did you expect her to work in your bar for the rest of her life."

Tom splutters angrily but doesn't know how to respond. Dolohov has him cornered and he knows it. Mikasa wants to ask what the two men are talking about. She moves to sit up . . . and gasps as a shooting pain races up her abdomen.

The dark-haired man pushes her back down on the bed, "Don't try to get up yet," he commands, "You were hit with an organ-crusher, a dark curse. The damage can't be healed instantly like broken bones can. You have to regrow half the organs in your body."

"She was hit wit' the curse 'cause o' ya," Tom mutters, "If it weren't fer ya she'd be fine."

The man turns sharply, "It's true that her actions kept me from getting hit with the curse but it was completely her own choice." His eyes soften slightly and he looks at Mikasa, "Which leads me to my next question. Do you know what you did, child?"

Mikasa looks at him confused, "Got hit with a curse?"

"No, before that, when you appeared right in front of me."

Mikasa was unsure, "I-I don't know. One second I felt like I was being sucked through a vaccuum and the next I was appeared in front of you. I read about this transportation thing adult witches and wizards use, but I also read that it couldn't be done accidentally, so I couldn't have done it. Right?"

The man turned to Tom, a triumphant glint in his eyes, "I told you her accidental magic was abnormal. She apparated. Not even Dumbledore himself was able to apparate on accidental magic. I want her as my heir. She is brave and capable. She will be a worthy addition to the Dolohov line."

"But she's not even one o' yer precious purebloods," Tom tells him, confused, "Ya would make a muggle-born yer heir?"

"Her birth doesn't matter. Her magic speaks for itself, and besides . . . " the man's grin is almost predatory, "Who would argue with a Dolohov?"

He looks back at the hospital bed, "What's your name, child?"

"Mikasa."

"Mikasa, my name is Antonin Dolohov. I have no wife nor true-born children, nor do I desire any. I was impressed, in Knockturn Alley, by your display of courage and magic. This may seem sudden, but would you like to become my adoptive child and heir?"

Mikasa glances at Tom uncertainly, how does he feel about it? Tom motions to the man, Antonin Dolohov, with his head and nods. He is resigned, this arrangement will be better for the girl. She'll get to attend Hogwarts and like Dolohov said, she couldn't work in his bar forever. Besides, she's so young, too young to join Dolohov's Dark Lord. He wouldn't do that to a ten year old girl. Right?

After seeing Tom's affirmative nod, Mikasa knows her answer. Not realizing how useful she was in the bar, she thinks that she was getting the better end of the deal. Tom is probably ready to get rid of her. She shouldn't trouble him any longer and outstay her welcome at his bar.

Mikasa meets the man's unwavering gaze with her own, "Yes."

She spends a few more days at St. Mungo's, as Mikasa learned the hospital was called. She had been surprised to learn what it was, the hospital's behind the wall had been drab and brown, with barely any workers and always filled with the dying. If people couldn't be healed by bedrest, chances were they couldn't be healed at all.

After Mikasa's organs are more or less regrown, Dolohov arrives to take her to his home. After saying goodbye to Tom, Mikasa grabs Dolohov's shirt sleeve and he apparates them just outside his home.

As Dolohov begins keying her into the wards, Mikasa gazes around the property in shock. Dolohov lives in a huge the nobility behind the wall never had houses this big! The mansion is more like fortress, stony and gray. It's overlooking a cliff that leads to a dark lake. More or less impregnable. A forest of tall trees looms over one side of the building. Mikasa gets the same feeling looking at the forest that she used to when something bad was about to happen. The hair on the back of her neck is standing up and she shudders once. She will not go into that forest alone, she decides.

She follows Dolohov inside, walking quickly to keep up with his long, purposeful strides, to a cold stone entrance hall, the floor of which is covered with a deep red carpet, the color of dried blood. Mikasa stifles a yawn, night is falling and she finds herself tired even at such an early hour. Damn ten-year-old body.

Dolohov notices her hidden yawn, "Tomorrow," he begins, "I'll find someone to educate you in the ways of pureblood society, but for now, sleep. I expect you to be completely attentive in all of your social etiquette lessons tomorrow. Do not disappoint me."

A house-elf leads Mikasa to a small room with a bed, a desk, and a closet full of clothing. A window near the bed gives her a view of the storm-tossed lake. The bed is covered in a dark brown fabric softer than any Mikasa has felt in her life. Exhausted, she climbs into bed and falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow.

The survey corps have returned to town, Mikasa watches them trudging wearily, heavily injured. There is a body in the wagon. She's too far away to see who it is. Suddenly, she realises Eren isn't standing next to her.

"Eren," she calls, "Eren where are you?"

The procession of survey corps members stops in front of her, "I'm sorry ma'am," one says, "It couldn't be helped." Mikasa follows the man's sad gaze. Eren's mangled corpse lays in the cart.

Mikasa wakes up screaming. She reaches for her scarf involuntarily, only to remember that she doesn't have it any more. Her hands are shaking.

Eren isn't dead, he isn't dead, he isn't dead. She repeats it over and over in her mind, the dream wasn't real, he can't be dead. He isn't dead . . . But can she really be sure? Mikasa's not in the walls anymore. Eren is alone, a known titan, without anyone looking out for him. He could have been killed by the military police or taken by the female titan. He could be in pain. She has no way of knowing.

Mikasa forces herself to breathe in and out Eren is, whatever he's doing, she can do nothing to help him now. She has to accept it; she has to let him go, even though he was her whole world. She shudders once then continues the calming breaths. She is a member of the military, she should not be so affected by her emotions. After a minute or so, her breathing rate goes back to normal and she is able to cease the frantic pounding of her heart.

A few seconds later, the door swings open and Dolohov strides into the room. He arrived quickly considering the size of the building, Mikasa notes, impressed.

"Why did you scream?" he asks, leaning against the wall, his dark gaze boring into her.

"It was a nightmare. I'm sorry; it won't happen again," Mikasa tells him.

"Was it about your past?"

"I . . . Yes."

"Where did you live before coming to work for Tom?"

Mikasa bites her lip. She doesn't know enough about this world to make up a believable lie, and she can't tell the truth. "I'm sorry. I can't say."

Dolohov's gaze has turned into a glare, "I will not have any secrets kept from me. You will tell me everything. Now."

It's a straight forward command, the kind she's been taught to obey with out question in military training. But he can't know the truth. Mikasa steels herself and responds, "No."

In two steps he's by her bed. He grasps her chin roughly and forces her to look him in the eyes. "Fine then, we'll do this the hard way."

Mikasa is confused, what is he doing? Why is he looking at her eyes?

He utters a word. "Legilimens."

Mikasa screams and grabs her head. It feels like it's being ripped apart with knife. Suddenly Eren's face is brought to the forefront of her mind, "Come on Mikasa," he tells her, "We'll be late for dinner."

It's a memory, why is she thinking about it now of all times? Why does it feel like someone is tearing her memories to shreds?

She remembers a passage she read in one of Tom's books, a short paragraph about a branch of magic called Occlumency, the art of protecting your mind. It protected against people invading your mind and stealing your thoughts and memories; a branch of magic called Legilimency. And the spell that Dolohov used was Legilimens.

She realizes what's happening. Dolohov is in her mind, sorting through her memories, he'll find out everything and she hasn't had time to learn Occlumency. Unless . . . there was one more passage in the book in regards to Occlumency, if you were for some reason unable to learn, it said, choose the thoughts to bring to the front of your mind. Don't hold on to everything, let the unimportant memories be taken, eventually the pain will lessen and you can focus on pushing the attacker out of your mind.

Mikasa ignores the splitting pain and focuses on her scarf. She tries to recall it exactly. It was soft and red, her symbol of Eren and by extension, of life. It was family and home and safety.

The pain in her head decreases. Yes, it's working! She keeps thinking about the scarf and only the scarf and the pain continues going away. Now she just needs to get Dolohov out of her mind. She counts the seconds: one, two, three . . . PUSH!

Her eyes fly open and she's sitting on the bed, Dolohov has been thrown off the bed, sent reeling by the force of her magic. He stands up and looks at her. She stiffens, nervous. What is he going to do?

He stares at her for another second and then bursts out laughing. Her eyes widen in surprise.

He speaks when the fit of laughter subsides, "It's fitting," he says, smirking, "That the Dolohov heir should have such a strong will. One would think you were born into the family."

He looks her in the eyes, "I will leave the matter of your past for now and I . . . apologize for hurting you, however . . . " His expression sobers, "You will tell me about your past eventually."

He turns and walks out of the room. The door creaks shut behind him. Mikasa wonders absentmindedly if her new guardian is bipolar. She sighs. At least life here will be interesting enough to keep her mind off of Eren.


	3. Chapter 3

chapter 3

A house-elf is sent to wake Mikasa. She gets up quickly, used to early rising from years of having commanders withold breakfast from lazy trainees. She walks over to the closet and begins flipping through the clothing. It's almost entirely dresses, made of all different kinds of material. She opens her window and sticks her head out. It's slightly chilly, but not freezing. She puts on a long-sleeve gray dress made of a soft, light material that falls to her knees.

She shivers, the dress is nice, but not warm enough for this stony castle that seems incapable of retaining heat. She begins looking through the drawers for something warm, something to go over the dress. She opens one of the drawers and gasps softly. Inside is a single, red scarf. It can't be coincidence. Dolohov must have had it put in after seeing it in her memories last night.

She smiles and slowly winds it around her neck. It isn't Eren's but it's a nice gesture. An apology for the intrusion into her mind.

After running a brush through her hair and slipping on a pair of soft, brown boots, she follows the houself downstairs to the dining hall.

Dolohov is already seated at the table, as is a middle-aged woman that she doesn't recognize.

Dolohov sees her standing in the doorway of the dining hall and beckons her forward, "Mikasa, this is your customs instructor Ms. Cavendish. I expect only good reports of your learning ability and behavior."

Ms. Cavendish looks Mikasa up and down with beady, eagle eyes. Her nose is curved, like a hawk's. She tuts disapprovingly, "Dear me, this one looks wild. Your hair child what have you done to your hair?"

Mikasa is confused, "Brushed it?"

"No no! A lady of high society does not simply brush her hair, she styles it! This will not do, this will not do at all." Ms. Cavendish ushers Mikasa back upstairs, tutting all the while.

Back in Mikasa's room, Ms. Cavendish sends Mikasa to shower in the bathroom while she chooses an outfit. After she finishes rinsing her hair, Mikasa steps out of the shower and and puts on the clothing laid out on her bed. A dark blue, velvet dress with bunchy sleeves and a pink ribbon tied at the waist. She pulls on the outfit uncomfortably, she isn't used to wearing such restrictive clothing and the collar feels like it's choking her.

She goes to the wardrobe and takes her scarf back out from where it was put away just as Ms. Cavendish strides back into the room. "No child, you musn't wear that," she scolds, "Looks how terribly it clashes with the ribbon."

Mikasa turns a heart-wrenching gaze on her new instructor. She hasn't used it since she was actually ten and her parents were still alive, but no time like the present. "Please Ms. Cavendish? It gets very cold in the house."

Any other adult would have melted under Mikasa's puppy-dog eyes. Ms. Cavendish simply harumpphs. "Fine then. You may wear the scarf. But we simply must do something about that wild beast you call hair!"

Mikasa allows herself to be lead into the bathroom. Ms. Cavendish uses a drying charm on her hair and makes her student look in the mirror. Mikasa hasn't thoroughly studied her reflection since, well . . . dying. She's surprised by the length of her hair. It falls just aboves her mid-back. An impractical length. If she was still in the survey corps she would have cut it by now.

Ms. Cavendish braids two front locks of Mikasa's hair and pulls it back with a pink ribbon, to match the one on her dress. The scarf is covering Mikasa's mouth and part of her nose. Ms. Cavendish pulls it down to the middle of her neck. Mikasa's eyes widen at her reflection. She looks like a doll.

Ms. Cavendish hmms approvingly, "I must admit, child, you have the potential to be quite the beauty when you grow up."

The rest of the morning is spent drilling Mikasa in silverware usage and table manners. By lunchtime, her eyes are glazed over as Ms. Cavendish drones on about the importance of one's eating habits.

At noon, her instructor (finally) departs, and Dolohov gives Mikasa free rein to explore the grounds: the stables, greenhouses, etc, provided she doesn't go into the forest or get too near the cliff over the lake.

Mikasa runs to her closet and changes into the cheapest feeling material she can find, then runs outside the castle, barefoot, relishing the feeling of grass on her feet. She decides to start by visiting each outer building one by one.

The first set of buildings are the stables, housing a few, beautiful horses. Mikasa resolves to spend a day riding after she becomes more familiar with the land; she wants to see how fast the spirited black horse with the white diamond above its eyes can run.

The second building has hundreds of plants, all completely new to her. Some even seem sentient. This must be the greenhouse.

The third building is nothing more than a small shed with a couple of brooms. Why keep the cleaning supplies so far away from the main house? Mikasa grabs one puzzled, and nearly drops it.

The broom is moving in her hands, thrumming and vibrating, alive with magic. She let go of it tentatively and it hovers in front of her. Mikasa watches it thoughtfully, if the point of the broom is to allow humans to fly, and it's hovering, then the best course of action would be . . . to mount it. Mikasa mounts cautiously and slowly allows her feet to drift off of the ground until she is fully suspended in the air by the broom.

She discovers that shifting her weight causes the broom to travel, and spends the rest of the afternoon experimenting. She laughs at the feeling of the wind rushing on her face. Some of the principles are similar to the 3D maneuver gear, but it doesn't take nearly as much thinking. Full use of the broom requires complete spacial awareness. The broom responds to her touch so well it's almost as if it's an extension fo her body. She wonders what the flying broom is for, transportation, or something else?

Dolohov looks up from his report for the unspeakables for a moment and out the window, doing a double take. Something is zipping around the sky outside of the house. Is that . . . Mikasa? He taps the glass with his wand and utters the magnification charm he recently invented.

Hmm, that is Mikasa. She seems to have discovered the brooms. He watches her corkscrew as she dives towards the grass, pulling back up inches from the ground. He stares in shock, there are professional Quidditch players that seem less comfortable on a broom. When she goes to Hogwarts he'll have to see Severus about getting her on the house team a year early. That is . . . if she's in Slytherin.

Mikasa is a real puzzle, embodying multiple characteristics of each house. She's loyal to those she trusts, brave: she proved that when she saved him from the curse, but not as loud and boisterous as the typical Griffindor. She certainly works hard and seems to have a thirst for knowledge, suggesting Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. However, she's good at noticing things, and has potential to become very manipulative, so . . . It's useless. There is absolutely no way of telling what house she'll be in until the sorting hat decides.

He continues watching her fly. That isn't natural talent, she's been on a broom or something similar before. But what, and when? She's a muggle-born isn't she? He glares, frustrated. He has absolutely no idea who she is and considering that she's his heir, that's not a good thing. What is it about her past that she feels is so important to keep secret?

Dolohov sighs, exasperated and runs a hand through his hair. He can think about Mikasa later but for now . . . he has a report to finish. He groans, he just had to become an unspeakable. Any other job would have had half the paperwork and half the stress. Of course . . . Dolohovs have never been known to do anything halfway.

Mikasa puts the broom back in the shed, tired, but happy. Flying is . . . incredible. She's missed the feeling of shooting through the air.

As Mikasa re-enters the house, Dolohov feels that familiar burn on his forearm. Of all the times for the dark lord to summon him it had to be now? He tells Mikasa he has a business meeting to go to and apparates away quickly. It's never good to keep the Dark Lord waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

Just so you know this is an alternate harry potter universe where there isn't a harry and the dark lord isn't a horcrux making stupid megalomaniac. He's actually cunning and looks 30 or 40 something and is not a weird white snake creature.

Also to my guest reviewer, Dolohov probably would have been able to stop the curse but Mikasa didn't know that so he's still impressed. In this fanfic he's an unspeakable so rare things and new discoveries interest him, so he's willing to overlook the whole muggle-born thing for now but it may come up later. At Hogwarts when he was sorted he asked the hat for Slytherin but he could have been in Ravenclaw as well. In this fanfic harry doesn't exist and apparating is more serious because if 17 year olds have to take a ton of classes to get it right it'd be kind of sad if little kids could do it accidentally whenever they needed to. Mikasa can only do it because she's older, battle-trained, and very magically powerful. In terms of Occlumency, I feel like that kind of skill should be related to willpower and mental strength in the short term though eventually Mikasa will formally learn how to protect her mind. While Occlumency may be impossible for young kids, again, Mikasa is a titan-destroying badass so it's not much of a problem for her. Hope that clears things up.

"Antonin, so good of you to join us," smirks the Dark Lord, red eyes glinting, as Dolohov apparates into the dark chamber and takes his place in the circle. Dolohov looks around at the others, faces hidden by masks. He was the last to arrive. Crap. It's never good to draw the Dark Lord's attention by being late, if only he hadn't taken a minute to tell Mikasa he was leaving . . .

The Dark Lord speaks "I've heard some . . . fascinating news lately. There are rumors that you've finally taken an heir. Is that true?"

"Yes my lord," Dolohov responds stiffly.

"Is it true," Voldemort murmurs silkily, "That the child is female and a mudblood?"

"She is a girl, my lord, and I am unable to say for sure that she is a muggle-born considering I don't know her parentage, however, her magical power is great," Dolohov answers, clenching his jaw nervously. This is the critical moment, the Dark Lord will either be intrigued by this mysterious girl or order her death.

"She sounds interesting," Voldemort smiles, showing too many teeth for Dolohov's liking, "You will bring her here and let us evaluate her?"

It's not a question, it is an order.

"Of course my lord."

"However," Voldemort continues, "You still should have informed me of the girls existence sooner."

Dolohov grits his teeth, awaiting the inevitable.

"Crucio."

Dolohov falls to his knees. As a wave of pain washes over him, he clenches his jaw, refusing to scream. He is not weak. He clenches his fist against the cold stone of the cracked dungeon floors, able to make out the dark blood remnants staining the ground from other, more violent punishments. Eventually, the pain subsides and he shakily stands up and returns to his place in the circle.

"That is enough punishment for now, but you will inform me of any developments like that immediately next time. You will not have another chance."

"Yes my lord."

Dolohov is relieved as the conversation turns to other subjects, small planned attacks and possible new recruits. The Dark Lord will let Mikasa live after all. Eventually, the meeting finishes. As he turns to leave, a hand on his shoulder stops him. "Wait just a moment Antonin," Lucius Malfoy murmurs, "I'd like to talk to you."

"Of course Lucius," Antonin agrees, wondering what his old friend wants to talk to him about.

"I would very much like to meet your new . . . daughter," Lucius smirks, "And I'd like to arrange a formal visit in a week or so. I'm sure Draco would be delighted to meet her as well."

Dolohov agrees readily. This is a good development. If Mikasa can win Lucius over that's one less problem when she's presented to the Dark Lord officially, and she needs to start making connections with other purebloods. Draco will do nicely.

"Mikasa," Dolohov calls as he apparates back into the manor.

She walks into the entrance hall and looks up at him. "Yes?"

"We're having guests next week. One of my oldest friends, and an ally of the Dolohov line is bringing his son, Draco, to lunch. Prepare appropriately and be ready to present yourself well, as a Dolohov."

Mikasa nods, excited despite herself, she hasn't had the chance to really meet any children in this world.

The next day, Mikasa wakes up and goes to the huge library situated towards the back of the mansion. She finds a house elf and asks for books on pureblood culture. She will not disappoint her new guardian. She races through a huge stack of books, memorizing all of the important information, and then starts a book on purebloods and the history of the dark arts. Tom had explained little about the dark arts to her, only that they were considered bad and had to be practiced in secret.

Curious, Mikasa finds other books throughout the vast library on dark magic, and in one of them, she sees a ritual for travelling through dimensions. Mikasa gasps, if she used this, she could go back to her world with the walls. She could see Eren again. But . . . does she really want to? Eren is her reason for going back but he may not even be alive. Why is it her responsibility to go back and protect the citizens of the wall?

One of the components of the dimension travelling spell is a ritual where you unbind yourself to any given dimension in order to be able to travel through worlds more easily. It won't take Mikasa anywhere, it will just make it easier for her to leave this world when the time comes. Mikasa won't have to decide whether or not to go back right away, but this ritual will be a start.

She follows the instructions carefully, cutting her arm lightly with a kitchen knife she took from the elves and drawing the correct blood runes on the grass outside of the mansion. She repeats the words in the book.

_Unbind my soul, make me less than a shadow in this plane, less than the wind, less than a ghost, unbind me so I will remain in this plane in body but not in spirit, let me float to other places not of this world, not of this plane. So mote it be._

As she finishes the last word of the spell Mikasa gasps as her chest suddenly tightens. She hears a loud tearing sound and starts floating in the air, paralyzed by the magic, unable to move as she watches a glowing light become separated from her body in a glass-like prison. The pain is unbearable and she can feel herself losing consciousness. Mikasa screams in pain. She sees Dolohov running out of the house towards her, yelling something, but she can't make out the words. The world goes dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Mikasa opens her eyes, dimly registering that she's lying in a bed. She looks out the window, she's in her room in Dolohov's mansion. She was in the middle of the unbinding ritual when she fainted. Right, she remembers now. Mikasa sighs, Dolohov will probably be furious. Too bad she doesn't have an explanation. As if hearing her thoughts, Dolohov chooses that moment to open her door and enter the room.

"What," he begins, his voice deceptively calm, "Were you possibly thinking trying that ritual? Your body was unable to take the strain of having your soul ripped away and unbound from the dimension. If I hadn't stopped the ritual in time you would be dead."

"I'm sorry," Mikasa whispers.

He glares, "An apology is not enough. Tell me why you even considered performing the first component in the dimensional travel spell?"

Mikasa bites her lip, she can't tell him. He can't know. There's nothing she can say, no reason she can make up. She looks down and remains silent.

His voice is cold and his smile terrifying, "Fine, if you won't tell me, I'll find out for myself. I was able to leave the matter alone last time, but in the face of this idiocy you leave me no choice. This is for your own safety."

Mikasa's eyes widen, oh crap, he's going to . . .

"Legilimens."

He finishes the spell, but Mikasa is up and running before he can look into her eyes, last time she was able to force him out because she caught him by surprise but this time he'll be prepared. She sprints out of the room with Dolohov close on her heels and bursts out the door of the mansion. He'll expect her to go to the out buildings and she can't jump down into the water, she doesn't know the depth, and a fall from the height of the cliff could be fatal, water or not. That leaves . . . the forest. The one place she was warned not to go.

She doesn't have a choice though. Mikasa runs into the trees. Seconds later, Dolohov is out the door as well, scanning the property for Mikasa. He apparates to the outer buildings and performs a charm to scan for signs of human life. Nothing. Where is she? He looks at the forest and sees a barely noticeable trail of small footprints in the mud, leading into the trees. That idiot.

He explicitly told her not go into the forest. He put up anti-apparation wards and the number of monsters in there rivals those in the Forbidden Forest. Not to mention there's too much magic for magic signature tracking location charms to work. He'll have to track her by foot. He swears loudly as he enters the forest.

Mikasa runs through the forest like her life depends on it, and in a way, it does. She has never seen Dolohov that angry before, and to be honest, she's a bit scared. After a mile or two of solid sprinting, her energy begins to wane; stupid child's body. Mikasa sits against a tree for a moment to catch her breath, angry. In her adult body she could run at least four miles before running out of breath. She looks up at the sky, night is falling, and soon not even the dim light from the moon will be able to penetrate the trees.

She sees a dark shape scuttle out from a tree with her peripheral vision and whips around. There, behind her, is a horde of spiders. Giant spiders. Mikasa swears quietly. If she still had her 3-D maneuver gear this wouldn't be a problem, but in this child's body with twenty or thirty spiders advancing . . .

Mikasa is surprised to hear one of the creatures speak, "What are you doing in these woods child?"

"Why do you want to know?" She sounds braver than she feels.

"Such a rude child," clicks the spider, red, beady eyes glowing in the dark forest. "You're small, but you'll make a nice snack." The spiders swarm towards her and circle around, eliminating any chance of running away. Mikasa takes a fighting stance and swallows nervously.

Dolohov races through the woods, following the trail of muddy footprints, wondering when they'll end. He's enhancing his speed with magic but for Mikasa to have sprinted this far on her own with her short legs . . . her stamina must be incredible.

The footprints end at a huge crowd of acromantulas. Dolohov flares his magic and they scuttle away warily. At the center of the circle they had formed stands Mikasa, covered in blood. Dolohov rushes towards Mikasa, noting the large number of acromantula corpses in the back of his head, he'll have to come by later and extract the venom. It's very valuable.

On closer inspection, Mikasa is not only covered in blood, but her clothes are torn, and there's a huge puncture wound through her shoulder. She's covered in bites from the acromantulas. Dolohov is amazed that she's still standing.

"Mikasa," he calls, "Mikasa answer me."

She says nothing and looks ahead with a blank stare, on auto-pilot. Her body is trembling slightly from the shock of the wound running clean through her shoulder. Suddenly, her legs collapse and she falls to the ground. Dolohov picks her up, careful not to grab her shoulder. She needs immediate medical treatment.

"Wait," hisses the lead acromantula, "You are stealing our snaaack."

"This child is the heir to the Dolohov house, any damage to her is a direct insult to me," he emphasizes the point with a flare of magic. He earned the respect of the acromantulas long ago, but perhaps they need a reminder of his power. "Besides," he smirks, "She's already killed this many of your kin," he motions to the corpses littering the ground, "Is that amount of death really worth a handful of meat?"

The leader hisses, but realises his defeat, and quietly, the spiders slink back into the shadows. Dolohov runs out of the forest and apparates back to the mansion the second he leaves the wards, calling for an elf. He forces a quick-regeneration and anti-infection potion down Mikasa's throat and casts a few specialized healing spells. He can't afford to take her to St. Mungo's, they'll ask too many questions. He doesn't need the publicity and he especially doesn't need the Dark Lord finding out.

He casts a final diagnostic charm and breathes a sigh of relief. She'll live, thank Merlin. He really wants to find out what's in her head, though, but it seems that course of action makes her too volatile. He will have to lay down some ground rules, however, like no performing dark rituals without asking first.

The fact that she was even able to complete the ritual though . . . her magical power must be insane for an eleven year old. Dolohov stares Mikasa's rapidly healing form pensively. Curse his interest in anything unexplained, this child is more trouble than she's worth.

**Author Note: Please give me reviews! They can be bad, good, constructive criticism, tiny grammatical errors you noticed, questions, anything. The longer the better, and I will respond to every review with questions in the following chapter and thank you in advance to anyone who can correct writing, grammar, or give constructive criticism.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author Note: First of all, give me long reviews, good or bad please. To answer dragonmorph's question watching the movies gives you a good amount of Harry Potter information but some of the minute details are in the books which I, personally, think you should read. To answer Androgynous-Heron, if you asked Dolohov he'd tell you any concern for Mikasa is about pride of the family but he has started feeling slight fatherly concern for her (though he'd never admit it) and that concern will grow throughout the story.**

When Mikasa wakes up, the first thing she does is scan the room for Dolohov with narrowed eyes. If he tries legilimency again she will fight back. He's standing at her window, looking out at the water. Mikasa props herself up with one arm and gasps at the sudden pain shooting through her body.

Dolohov is at her bed in a second, lifting her up slightly to remove the pressure from her arm, "Don't try anything with that arm yet, the wound in your shoulder isn't completely healed."

Mikasa sits up, careful of the arm now, eyeing him warily.

He smirks, "I'm not going to attempt legilimency again, if that's what you're wondering. I'd rather you didn't throw yourself into any more deadly situations."

He's telling the truth. Mikasa allows herself to relax.

"However," Dolohov ticks the numbers off on his fingers, "No more running into forbidden areas, no more performing dark rituals without permission, and no more putting yourself into potentially dangerous situations without considering the risks and without being fully informed. Understood?"

"Yes," Mikasa agrees readily. The ritual thing was idiotic of her, she should have researched it more and thought it through. She doesn't know enough magic or enough of the magical world yet to be trying advanced rituals. In hindsight, it was a pretty stupid decision.

Mikasa spends the next days devouring books in the library every morning and exploring the outer buildings in the afternoon. To make sure she's actually absorbing the information she reads, Dolohov quizzes Mikasa on the books' content for an hour every day. She answers every question perfectly and sometimes has questions of her own. He finds her to be a very inquisitive mind and her level of thinking is far beyond that of an eleven year old's. To say that Dolohov is pleased would be an understatement.

Finally the day comes for the Malfoy's to visit. Lucius steps through the floo at precisely noon (the Malfoys are never late) and his small, blond son trails behind him. Mikasa is wearing her scarf, of course, a red ribbon in her hair, and a frilly tunic over leggings. Appropriately feminine but also easy to move around in. She wants to take Draco out flying on the brooms later, and a skirt would be impossible to maneuver in. She hopes Dolohov isn't mad that she didn't wear a dress, but he doesn't seem to notice.

She sees an imposing man with long blond hair and a silver tipped cane. Beside him is a smaller boy with an uncanny resemblance to his father. The man radiates an aura of danger and looks slightly disapproving at her appearance. His smile is unnerving.

"Hello Mikasa, it is a pleasure to meet you," he drawls, "My name is Lucius Malfoy." His gaze is sharp, "I've heard a lot about you."

At that moment, Mikasa remembers a passage from one of the books she's read in the past week.

_"There are three classes in wizarding society. Purebloods, born of two magic-folk, are in the top class of society. The longer the wizarding lineage of a pureblood family, the more prominent their place in society. Half-bloods are born of a magic-folk and a muggle and can achieve some standing in society but have less advantages then purebloods. Muggle-borns, born of two muggles, are the lowest of society, commonly looked down upon as ignorant of wizarding customs and of bad blood. They are commonly described with the slur 'mudblood' "_

Mikasa is pretty sure both her parents were muggles. If they had magic, wouldn't they have used it to defeat the men who killed them?_ Lucius is a pureblood, Dolohov is a pureblood, but I am a muggle-born_, Mikasa thinks, _he is fundamentally prejudiced against me. I must tread carefully with this man. He can be very dangerous._

On the outside, however, Mikasa is the very embodiment of a pureblood lady-in-training, "Hello," she smiles demurely, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Her hands are clasped behind her back, and their momentary clenching goes unnoticed.

After Mikasa looks away from his father, Draco introduces himself and steps forward to kiss her hand, looking all the world like a perfect member of pureblood society. The image is ruined a second later when Mikasa asks to take him flying and his face lights up in a manner that (Lucius reminds him) is not becoming of a pureblood gentleman.

Dolohov takes Lucius to his office to discuss business and Mikasa leads a slightly hyper Draco to the broom shed. He fires off rapid questions as they walk, barely giving Mikasa any time to answer.

"Is it true that you're adopted?"

"Yes."

"Are you a muggle-born."

Mikasa takes a deep breath, his father already knows, no point in hiding it. "Yes."

At this revelation Draco's expression becomes an ugly sneer, "I can't imagine why you were adopted then. A trained mudblood isn't much better than a wild one. Plus I bet your magic is tons weaker than a normal wizard's with your corrupted blood."

Mikasa rolls her eyes imperceptibly. There were children like Draco inside the wall , thinking she wasn't as good as them because of the fact that she was like her mother. Asian it was called. Childish prejudices spawned from ignorant parents. Mikasa decides to handle the matter like an adult.

"Be that as it may, Draco, I was adopted into the Dolohov family due to my unique abilities in magic. As you are a guest in this manor, an insult directed at me is an insult directed at the entire Dolohov line. You do not have to like me, but we may have favorable business connections in the future if you are civil." Her voice is firm and her gaze steady.

Draco blinks in shock, not expecting a "mudblood" of all people to be so well versed in pureblood customs and relations. He knows he has to tread carefully, and his father had warned him to be polite before they arrived. "Of course," he grits his teeth, "I apologize for my rude behavior."

Mikasa smiles, despite his arrogance and childish prejudice, Draco isn't stupid. He knows better than to insult an old family in their home, especially one his father often does business with. Muggle-born or not, Mikasa knows that from now on he will, at least, remain civil with her.

Draco's chagrin at the necessary apology is forgotten as Mikasa retrieves what she has found to be two of the fastest brooms from the shed and hands one to Draco. He grins and mounts the broom easily, shooting up into the sky. Mikasa follows seconds later. Draco watches her contemplatively as she accelerates easily and then comes to a clean stop.

"You're a good flyer," he tells her, "Will you try out for a quidditch team at Hogwarts?"

Mikasa has only read one book on Quidditch and found it poorly written, but she understands the basic rules and ideas. "Maybe," she responds, "But not if it interferes with my academic work."

Draco nods and adopts a more arrogant tone, "My father said I would be an amazing seeker and Slytherin will be lucky to have me on the team," he tells her imperiously. "I will be in Slytherin of course, will you?"

Mikasa hadn't read any books about Hogwarts during the week and is unsure what Draco is talking about. "What's Slytherin?"

Draco gapes, "You mean you don't know? It's the best house at Hogwarts out of the four. It's for those with cunning and ambition." He smiles proudly, "I'll be the tenth Malfoy heir to be in Slytherin."

"What are the other three houses for?" Mikasa asks, curious.

"Ravenclaw is for kids who only know how to study, Hufflepuff is for the weaklings who try too hard, and Gryffindor is for the loud, fool-hardy kids who like to pretend that being stupid is the same as being brave."

Mikasa hides a grin at his explanation, what a one-dimensional view of the world. But she has some idea now of what traits each house represents. "I don't know which house I'll be in," she tells Draco honestly.

"If you're in Ravenclaw we can be friends," Draco informs her, "But if you end up in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, I refuse to be associated with you."

The two eleven-year-olds have a quick lunch with their fathers, then Mikasa takes Draco to the greenhouse while he feeds her more information about Hogwarts. He isn't a bad kid, Mikasa decides, as the two Malfoy males leave through the floo, just a little too ready to believe every word that comes out of his father's mouth. Dolohov seems pleased too. All in all, the day was a productive one.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucius leans back in his chair with a sigh, reflecting on the conversation he'd had earlier with his old friend, Antonin Dolohov.

_"Antonin," Lucius begins, as they watch their children zip around on brooms outside of the office window. "I understand that you need an heir and that this girl has strong magic, but a mudblood? Really? I thought you were smarter than that, old friend. The Dark Lord will tear you apart."_

_Dolohov leans back in his chair and sighs, "You know I never shared your views, Lucius. I only joined the Dark Lord because when the war finally comes I wish to be on the winning side."_

_"Yes, you are a survivor," Lucius admits grudgingly, "But what is so special about this child? Plenty of children have excess magical power. That doesn't make them worth adopting."_

_Antonin laces his fingers together and smiles, "True, but not all children are able to face a horde of acromantulas and come out alive."_

_Lucius loses his composure for a moment and gapes, "The girl did that?"_

_Antonin smirks, "Not only that, she was able to take out at least ten of them, bare-handed and without magic." His expression grows more serious, "Not to mention the fact that she was still standing with a puncture wound through her shoulder. A child should not have that level of discipline. It leads me to wonder what she's been through in the past ten years."_

_Lucius' brow furrows, "If she refuses to tell you what happened then use legilimency."_

_Antonin heaves a sigh, "I tried. Twice. The first time she was able to force me out of her mind through sheer brute strength, and the second time, she avoided the spell and ran into the forest. It frustrates me, but I can't think of a reason for her to be so fierce about withholding the information."_

_"You can catch her by surprise by performing the spell whens she's least expecting it," Lucius suggests._

_"She'd find a way to escape, even at risk of death. I promised her I would no longer attempt legilimency, to get her guard down, but the second I let her into the library she found a book on occlumency. Knowing her learning rate, she's probably at least at the level of being able to detect subtle legilimency. It's too late. In a few months, or even weeks, I'm sure her shields will be perfect."_

_"The Dark Lord will demand to know her past," Lucius reminds him._

_"I know. I'm counting on the fact that she'll be too interesting for him to kill. I'll take any torture in her place and then the Dark Lord will break through her shields with his legilimency. That will be the end of the problem."_

_"If the Dark Lord accepts her in the first place."_

_"He will," Dolohov sounds more confident than he feels, "Mikasa is too fascinating to kill, and he knows that I need an heir. She will be a perfect addition to the ranks, when she's older and it would be a waste to destroy that kind of potential."_

_"I hope, for your sake, that you're correct in your assumptions, Antonin." Lucius tells him with a sigh, "Try not to be too disappointed if he kills her."_

At that point in the conversation, Antonin's expression had turned fiercely protective for just a moment, before he'd changed the subject to business. Lucius frowns, his friend seems to attached to the girl. Yes she's powerful, but that still isn't worth angering the Dark Lord. Does Antonin feel protectiveness or even affection towards the mudblood?

Lucius scoffs at his errant thought. Antonin has always been too interested in anything new, his Ravenclaw side, as they used to call it back at Hogwarts, surfaced every now and then. Once the novelty of the girl wears off, Antonin will tire of her, like he does with everything else. Content with his realization, Lucius' thoughts turn to other matters.

A coded letter arrives at the Dolohov manor by owl two days later. Dolohov decodes it and grits his teeth. The Dark Lord wishes to meet Mikasa. It had to happen at some point but he'd hoped to wait a bit longer . . . he needs time to explain to Mikasa about the Dark Lord.

At dinner that night he tells Mikasa he's taking her to meet someone.

"Who?" she asks curiously

Antonin eyes her contemplatively before speaking, "How much do you know of Lord Voldemort?"

"Lord Voldemort," Mikasa recites, "An unknown leader of a terrorist group called the Death Eaters known for muggle hatred with inside information on the ministry. Wanted for questioning. Contact Department of Law Enforcement with any questions or information." She reads the newspaper every morning and has memorized the small ministry notification printed in every copy.

Dolohov decides to get straight to the point, "I am a death eater."

Mikasa also prefers to be blunt. "Do you torture people?"

"Yes," Dolohov tells her, "I will torture and kill when directed, without hesitation, but I do not enjoy it as some of the others do."

Now comes the most important question: "Why?" Mikasa blinks up at him with guileless black eyes.

For a moment, Dolohov feels a flash of guilt. If- no, when the Dark Lord decides not to kill her, she will eventually be forced to join the ranks of the death eaters. She will have to torture and kill. This is the life he is subjecting her to. His eyes harden and he pushes the guilt away, she will deal with it, she is a Dolohov now.

"Eventually," he begins, "There will be a war between those who dislike muggles and those who advocate for their rights. I intent to be on the winning side of this war. It is necessary in order to survive."

Mikasa looks down, is this what humanity comes to without a threat to unite against? Warring with one another over prejudices, is that what they find important? But Dolohov is correct, in that kind of situation the necessary path is the one that leads to survival. Mikasa makes a decision. She will not torture or kill other human beings, even at the cost of her life, but she will not condemn Dolohov for doing so.

When Mikasa looks up her gaze is steady, "I understand."

"Good," Dolohov says brusquely as though the outcome of their entire future wasn't dependent on Mikasa's answer, "Because the Dark Lord wishes to meet you. Tomorrow. Prepare appropriately and do not defy him. Understood?"

"Understood."

**Author Note: I want long long long detailed reviews. Lots of them. Please oh please if you have a heart inside of your cold dead vampiric bodies, my readers, then give me reviews. Reviews encourage me to keep writing, they brighten my day (even critical ones) just seeing the number of reviews tick up another notch makes me dance with happiness. By the way, and you can answer this question in the reviews, is it possible to tell someone's age from their writing? Because I often come across fanfictions that sound like they're written by a bored teenager and then find out it's a thirty-nine year old working mother writing the stories. Out of curiosity, how old do you think I am based on my writing and why? Thanks for reading, suggestions always welcome.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Note: To septsunny, thank you for the detailed analysis on Dolohov. That was definitely a descriptive review and it made me so happy and inspired me to write tonight. To Version2Point0 thank you so much for saying specifically what you liked and thanks for the comment on my age guessing question. I'm not quite sure how Levi will factor in to the story later but I can promise that it won't be the typical "Mikasa had always secretly loved Levi." As of right now they have absolutely zero feelings for each other and if they end up with any romantic feelings, those will develop over time throughout the course of the story. If you give reviews I will love you every day for the rest of your life. Long, critical reviews. People seem to think that bad reviews will scare me away from writing. THEY WILL NOT. I want to know everything I'm doing wrong so I can make my story better, and please be specific. Critical questions ENCOURAGE me to keep writing, not the opposite.**

Mikasa wakes up. She blinks slowly. Today is . . . something big. She rubs her eyes blearily, she can't remember what . . . oh crap. Today is the day when she'll meet the Dark Lord Voldemort. Right. She starts shaking involuntarily and takes a calming breath. She slides mechanically out of bed and goes to the the closet. She picks out a simple black shirt and black pants. She does not need to look the part of a pretty pureblood lady today. Lord Voldemort is not a stuffy aristocrat. He is a mass murderer.

Her hand brushes the red scarf and she eyes it thoughtfully. She wants to wear it; it makes her feel safer and supported. She sighs and shuts the door. She can't afford the questions that a vibrant red scarf would merit at a death eater meeting. Mikasa goes into the bathroom and looks in the mirror. Her hair is wild and untamed, framing her face in a way that makes her expression seem more intense.

She reaches for the brush but changes her mind. She is going to a death eater meeting, she reminds herself. She does not want to look like a meek little girl. That will get her killed. She needs to look fierce, strong, and like a worthy addition to Voldemort's band of terrorists. Even though she's unwilling to kill.

A light tremor runs through Mikasa's hand. She hates to admit it, but she feels afraid. Not of death, the killing curse is supposedly painless and she's already been eaten by a titan, but she's afraid for Dolohov. If the Dark Lord decides to kill her, what happens to him? Would he protect her? If he did, he would most certainly be killed right along with her. Mikasa glares at the floor. She hates not knowing things. She absolutely despises walking into situations completely blind, not knowing what will happen to those she cares about.

Mikasa eats almost nothing for breakfast and all of a sudden, it's time to go. Dolohov motions for her to grab his arm, looking, if anything, colder than ever. Mikasa bites the inside of her cheek so hard she draws blood, but on the outside, she is completely calm. She will not show fear.

Mikasa feels herself disappear with a rush of air, and then comes the familiar feeling of being pulled through a tube. Moments later, Mikasa is standing on the stone floor of a very ominous looking dungeon. She looks up into a pair of glowing red eyes.

As her vision adjusts to the dim room, Mikasa sees that the eyes belong to a handsome man, thirty-five years old, roughly Dolohov's age, if she had to guess. His long, dark hair is pulled into a band at the nape of his neck. The smile on his face is at best unnerving and at worst, absolutely terrifying.

Mikasa's instincts are screaming at her to run away; she can feel his magic permeating the air, so strong that it's leaking out of him. Or perhaps he's allowing it to escape his body, instilling further fear of his power in the death eater's surrounding them. Mikasa's every cell is shaking with nervous energy, but she stands her ground and continues staring the man (though she can't be sure he's human) straight in the eyes.

"You are Mikasa, then?" his voice is smooth and dangerous, with a hint of madness. As he speaks, Mikasa can feel his magic flitting along the tips of her fingers and slowly brushing along the rest of her body. It makes her skin crawl.

She answers him: "Yes."

A death eater steps out of the circle, enraged, and shrieks with a distinctly feminine voice. "Insolent child! Who do you think you are? You will address our Lord as 'my lord' each time you speak to him. How dare you show such disrespect!" The woman raises her hand and slaps Mikasa hard across the face, her long nails, almost clawlike, leave bloody scrapes on Mikasa's cheeks.

"Now Bellatrix," the Dark Lord laughs as if amused, "No need to be so harsh with this young one. I'm sure she didn't know any better. Yes, Mikasa?"

"Yes, my lord," Mikasa answers carefully. Ignoring the urge to touch her stinging face.

The woman- Bellatrix's face is still hidden by a bone-white mask, but Mikasa can feel the woman's glare boring into her back.

Lord Voldemort turns to Dolohov. "Tell me," he begins, "Exactly what you were thinking, adding a mudblood," he draws out the word as if enjoying the way it rolls off his tongue, "to your family line, of purebloods?"

"Her talent for magic is extraordinary and I believe she will bring no shame to the family." Dolohov responds, lifting his chin slightly.

Voldemort smirks, "Is that so?" He sweeps an arm out, motioning to the circle of death eaters. "And how do you feel about this development, my loyal followers? After all, our . . . organisation stems from the belief that mudbloods and muggles are a bane to wizarding society and should be," he pauses, "eliminated."

Murmurs begin break out in the crowd of death eaters and as their voices rise in volume, shouts of protest against Mikasa's arrival at their meeting begin filling the air. Many are calling for Mikasa's, and even Dolohov's, deaths. More still are eager for there to be torture.

Voldemort silences them all with a raised hand. "I will not make the decision today," he announces, "We shall see if this child of inferior blood is truly worthy of being a death eater." There are some grumbles of disappointment in the crowd of his bloodthirsty followers. "However," Voldemort continues, "It simply wouldn't do for her to join the circle without payment, so . . ." He turns to Dolohov who watches him wearily, already prepared for what will happen next.

"Crucio."

Mikasa blinks, shocked as she sees Dolohov fall to his knees, his face contorting with pain.

_The Cruciatus Spell, her mind supplies, is a dark torture curse that has been labeled an "Unforgivable." It is illegal in most wizarding societies, and not used, even for torturing prisoners of war. Those subjected to this curse for longer than ten minute periods of time will be left with extensive nerve damage. The spell causes unimaginable pain in every nerve-ending of the incantation is "Crucio."_

Mikasa's feelings of shock quickly turn to rage. How dare Voldemort use that kind of spell on her guardian. He. Will. Not. Hurt. Dolohov.

"Stop it! Mikasa growls, ferociously, placing herself between Dolohov and the spell. Dolohov looks up, surprised, as he suddenly feels the pain come to a sudden stop. The Dark Lord usually likes his torture to last much longer. His gaze falls on a child's body and the back of a head of wild, black hair. The child in question is shaking with the pain of the cruciatus, but not screaming. Dolohov blinks in shock as the realization hits him. It's Mikasa.

Mikasa bites down on her lip, hard, drawing blood, to refrain from screaming as the curse hits her. Her body is screaming at her to run, to scream, to do anything to get away from or lessen the horrible pain, but she's paralyzed. This is worse than feeling the titan's teeth bite through her legs, worse than anything she's ever felt before. All she wants is for it to stop. Dimly, she hears Voldemort laughing in the background. The Dark Lord's laugh is a high, cold sound that sends chills down her spine.

He laughs once more, and the curse ends. Mikasa collapses onto the ground, numb. "Antonin," Voldemort addresses Dolohov, "I was skeptical of your claims, but you have found a very interesting child. Not to scream under the pain of cruciatus . . . " His gaze sweeps over the death eaters, "Many of you are not as strong as this slip of child. You should be ashamed."

Mikasa sits on the floor, her legs collapsed from the effects of the cruciatus. She can feel the other death eaters glaring at her. They are angry, extremely angry at being shown up by a mere child. But their anger mingles with an undertone of fear. For a child to bear the cruciatus so easily . . . what is she?

Suddenly Mikasa feels tired. Her body is still shivering, her legs still trembling. All she wants to do is close her lies and allow herself to fall unconscious, but she can't afford to now. She can't show weakness in front of the monsters standing around her. She struggles to keep her eyes open.

As if noticing her fatigue, Dolohov chooses that moment to pick her up, realizing that she cannot stand. "By your leave, my lord," he says, with a nod towards Voldemort.

"Very well," Voldemort smiles, "You may take your heir home and attend to her. I expect we will gain no more information about her in this state," he motions to her visibly shaking body, "But be sure to bring her back, Antonin. It wouldn't do to withhold such a fascinating child." His cruel smile is the last thing Mikasa sees before her eyes close, her head falling to rest on Dolohov's shoulder. He apparates away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author Note: Sooooooo . . . . Here's the newest chapter. As usual, I WANT CRITICAL REVIEWS. A huuuuge thank you to Dragonmorph for his/her detailed review. That's the kind of review I want! Though feel free to point out more flaws, because I WANT TO IMPROVE MY WRITING! Not have people tell me "it's good pleez keepz writingz" But anyways, thanks to everyone who's read so far and since I'm bored lately if anyone can successfully guess my age I'll write them a short oneshot about pretty much anything they want that I have read as a prize. So guess my age in the reviews. I have to say I'm curious what you'll guess.**

Two weeks later, Mikasa is studying, as usual. Her and Dolohov have successfully managed to completely avoid discussing what happened during the death eater meeting. The two are in the process of finishing a silent breakfast when a house elf pops into the room with a letter. Dolohov notices the Hogwarts sea on the envelope and doesn't even bother opening it.

He tosses it to Mikasa with a smirk, "It appears you have significant enough magical power to attend Hogwarts." As if they didn't already know that. Dolohov addresses Mikasa over the top of his newspaper. "I have some business to take care of in Knockturn Alley tomorrow. We'll go to get your school supplies then."

Mikasa nods, excited despite herself. Most of her childhood was spent in training for the army, she never really went to a school, and had known few other children in her youth besides Eren and Armin. Proper education had been for the rich nobles' kids, and even then they'd had private tutors.

The next morning Mikasa is much the same as usual, though Dolohov notes inwardly that she seems slightly more lively and animated than she is normally. Dolohov apparates them into Diagon Alley, gives Mikasa a bag of gallon and a device that will transport her purchased items back to the manor. He tells her to meet him at Ollivander's in an hour, giving him time to pick up what he needs in Knockturn. Dolohov definitely wants to be there when she gets her wand. It's not guaranteed that something interesting will happen, but Dolohov is willing to bet that Ollivander will notice Mikasa's magic abilities aren't exactly normal for someone her age. He feels relatively fine with letting Mikasa go off on her own the rest of the time though. She's incredibly responsible for her age and unlikely to run into any life threatening trouble in a place as crowded and well-known as Diagon Alley.

After Dolohov leaves, Mikasa goes through the items on her supply list quickly and efficiently, going to the least crowded stores first in order to buy the items faster. One of the more crowded places, Flourish and Blott's, the bookstore, is her last stop. The first year Hogwarts books are already on display and Mikasa has no trouble locating all of them. Unfortunately, the stack becomes rather large, towering over her small body as she tries to carry all of the books to the counter to pay.

Unable to see over the stack of thick textbooks, Mikasa is startled by a loud thud, followed by the toppling of her book tower and all of her textbooks falling to the floor. The person she hit is a boy with bright red hair that looks maybe two or three years older than she is.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes.

The boy tuts in mock disapproval, "Better watch where you're going little firstie . . . "

"Or you'll bump into someone who isn't as nice as my brother there," an identical voice continues, coming up from behind her.

Mikasa turns around, finding herself face to face with a double of the boy she bumped into. Identical twins. Lovely. There hadn't been any twins behind the walls, at least not while she was alive. Mother used to tell her stories about a pair of boys born at the same time with the same bodies, but after the breach of Wall Maria, birth rates had become so low that the probability of twins decreased to almost nothing.

Both boys bent down to gather up some of her books, and carried them to the counter.

"Thank you," she says, relieved to finally be able to send the last item on her supply list back to the manor.

"It was no trouble," one twin begins, "After all . . ."

"Two sets of hands are better than one," the other finishes seamlessly.

"By the way, begins the first freckle-spotted boy, "He's George Weasley," he points to his brother,

"And he's Fred Weasley," says the other twin with nearly identical movements.

Mikasa catalogues their names with their characteristics in her mind. She's relatively certain that the average person wouldn't be able to tell the two apart, but Fred has tiny mark on his neck that George is lacking.

"I'm Mikasa," she tells them with a small smile.

"And do you have a last name?" asks George.

"Oh, my last name is Ack-" Mikasa hesitates, no she's not an Ackerman anymore! She is Mikasa Dolohov, though she's never introduced herself as a Dolohov before. The name sounds odd in her head, but oddly fitting. "Dolohov," Mikasa tells them firmly, "I'm Mikasa Dolohov."

The boys' expressions quickly change from friendly to guarded. "Oh you're a Dolohov then?" Fred sneers.

"Betcha hang out with Malfoys and all the other stinking death eaters," George continues, "Heard a lot about the Weasley's, hmm?"

Mikasa is confused, what do these boys have against her? Or rather, against Dolohov? "You're the first Weasley's I've met and I'd rather not have preconceptions about others before even speaking with them," Mikasa answers honestly.

Both boys looks somewhat taken aback, but quickly recover. "Well then little firstie," George starts, less guarded but still slightly skeptical, "What's a nice girl like you doing with a Dolohov?"

"I'm not a Dolohov by birth," Mikasa explains, "I was adopted."

The shock on the boys' faces is impossible to miss, "But-but death eaters don't just adopt people!" Fred exclaims.

Mikasa wonders if it's common knowledge when you're a death eater or if people just assume that Dolohov is because he is because the family is associated with dark magic rather than light.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" George asks, curious now. Both twins are sporting identical mischevious gleams in their eyes. "Gonna go for Slytherin?"

"I'm not sure," Mikasa tells them, "I don't really have a preference though."

This statement causes both boys to raise an eyebrow and glance at each other quickly.

"Could this be George-"

"That there's really-"

"A slimy slytherin's daughter-"

"Who doesn't feel the irrepressible urge-"

"To wind up in Slytherin?"

George, or maybe Fred, Mikasa can't see their necks anymore, claps her on the shoulder, "Maybe you're alright after all, firstie."

He turns to his brother again, "Oi Fred, think of all the pranks we could pull-"

"If this one end up in Slytherin-  
"We could really use an inside man, after all."

Mikasa checks the time on a clock and notices that there are only five minutes left until she has to meet Dolohov outside of Ollivander's.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," she tells the twins.

"Alright little firstie-"

"Run along now-"

But don't forget about us-"

"The Hogwarts resident prank masters-"

"Cause if you let down your guard-"

"For even a second-"

"You will be . . ."

"PRANKED" both boys scream in unison at the top of their lungs, causing a red haired woman, probably their mother, to shush them angrily.

Mikasa stares at them for a moment, completely bemused, and rushes out of the store to find Ollivander's. It looks like she'll have some friends at Hogwarts besides Draco. Well . . . maybe not friends. It seems hard to tell with the twins. Allies at least. Until they prank her. She resolves to watch the boys very carefully when she gets to Hogwarts.

Mikasa reaches Ollivander's storefront precisely on time and Dolohov apparates beside her a moment later. She walks in to the store and immediately feels magic surrounding her body. The magic isn't eerie and intoxicating like Voldemort's was, instead it wraps around her body comfortingly and then swirls away lazily, flying to the many boxes piled up in the store.

An old man with white hair and a wrinkled, but cheery face is hunched over at the desk. He looks up as Mikasa walks over and a smile spreads over his face.

"Ah yes, Ms. Dolohov, wasn't it?"

Mikasa nods.

Ollivander studies her for a moment and Mikasa shifts uncomfortably at his penetrating stare. Can this man find out her secret?

"Interesting," he murmurs, more to himself than Mikasa, "You have such fascinating magic, child." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "Hmm . . .I wonder." He pulls a box out from one of the numerous shelves and takes out a wand. "Give this a wave," he instructs Mikasa.

She obeys, and can feel the magic coursing through her at the motion, but at the same time, it feels . . . wrong. Like having a missing bolt in the 3-D maneuver gear. It's not impossible to use, just weird and unnatural.

"No, not that one then," Ollivander mutters, summoning more boxes.

The next ten minutes inch along slowly as Mikasa tries wand after wand, none feeling quite right. Finally, Ollivander declares her unmatchable with any of the wands in his shop. Dolohov smirks, he knew something interesting would happen with Mikasa involved.

"I'm afraid, Ms. Dolohov, that I don't sell the right kind of wand for you," Ollivander finally tells her, shaking his head regretfully.

"What do you mean? Every child attending Hogwarts is chosen by a wand in your shop," Dolohov interjects.

"Yes," Ollivander mutters, "Yes that's exactly my point, every child-" He pauses on the word child and peers at Mikasa, "However," he continues, "This girl is not suited to my type of wands. My wands are made for children!" He waves his arms in the air as if to illustrate a point, "My wands grow as their owners do, starting off with unlimited potential, having their magic tied to a witch or wizard, However . . . someone who has been through situations wholly unnatural for a child, someone already having begun reaching much of their potential. They must start off with a different kind of wand. A child is not a child if they have experienced more than the average adult would ever expect to, after all."

Dolohov's glance flickers to Mikasa. She is biting her lip, a common habit of hers when she's angry, nervous, or in pain. She stares straight ahead, still as a statue, as though she's afraid she'll betray something if she moves. Dolohov almost growls. Dammit! He's so close to finding out the truth! Why won't the stubborn girl just talk? Not a child, adult's experiences, already reaching her potential. He feels like he's being given clues but doesn't know enough to puzzle the whole situation out. Not knowing is extremely frustrating.

Mikasa looks down resignedly. It looks like she won't be getting a wand after all. Does this mean she can't go to Hogwarts? Will Dolohov disown her now? Will she have to be on her own again? Her breathing starts to quicken. Ollivander sees Mikasa panicking and decides to try and calm her down. "Don't worry, Ms. Dolohov," he tells her, "I may have one wand . . ." Mikasa looks up hopefully, "But don't get your hopes up," Ollivander tells her sternly.

He goes to the back of the shop and comes out with a wand in a slightly different box from all the others. "This one is still in the experimental stages," he informs Mikasa, "The core isn't a natural or magical ingredient like in all of my other wands. It's mechanized, with muggle gears and everything in the center. Try it out."

Mechanized like 3-D maneuver gear? Mikasa tentatively picks up the wand. The second her fingers make contact, she feels the wood come alive with magic. A feeling of completeness sets over her as she waves the wand, filling the air with colorful swirls that dance around her body. Dolohov watches, fascinated, as Mikasa's eyes change to a deep purple for a moment before going back to their normal color.

"Well," Ollivander breathes, astounded, "It seems you've found your wand, Ms. Dolohov."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author Note: Anon, you are the love of my life. You are the second reviewer to give me a critical review with helpful suggestions. It brightened my day and I will keep everything you said in mind. The suggestions were really brilliant, thank you so much! Unfortunately I am not in my early twenties but good guess.**

As they walk out of Ollivander's, Mikasa notices a shop, The Magical Menagerie, across the street. It's filled with animals of every type, and children peering at them with wide, smiling faces. Dolohov notices her staring at the store.

"Do you want a pet?"

Mikasa's eyes widen in surprise. A pet? An animal to take care of? They didn't have pets behind the walls. All animals were purely functional. For food, pulling carts, or riding. Mikasa wonders what it would be like to have a pet. But . . . no, she shouldn't trouble Dolohov. He's already taken her into the house, dealt with dark magic rituals and a lot more. It would probably be a nuisance for him if she had a pet.

"No, I don't want a pet," she tells Dolohov.

Dolohov refrains from rolling his eyes. Barely. He'd seen Mikasa staring at the shop with longing. Silly girl, she probably thinks it will be a nuisance if she has a pet. She'll need a push to admit that she wants one.

"Animals can enhance magical abilities and familiars can even be used to perform rituals and channel magic through. It would be wise of you to purchase a magical animal."

So he does want her to get a pet? "Okay," Mikasa tells Dolohov.

They walk into the store and a small, black bundle of fur comes flying at Mikasa. She catches it easily, and looks at the tag stuck to its collar. It's a kneazle, a magical brand of feline. The kneazle begins to purr and looks up at Mikasa with vivid green eyes. She scratches it behind the ears and the purring increases until it sounds akin to a motorboat.

Dolohov looks down at Mikasa and sees her smiling, widely. This is the first time he's seen her looking so completely happy and carefree. He smiles too, despite himself.

Mikasa buys the small kneazle and decides to name it Connie, another overenthusiastic person she happens to know. Or knew, anyways.

As they leave the shop, Mikasa sees two semi-drunken men walk by, and recognizes them as regulars from the Hog's Head, Tom's bar. They recognize her too.

"Oi, Mikasa, haven't seen you 'round the bar in a while," one of them comments, "Where've ya gotten' yourself off ta lately," he slurs.

Dolohov steers Mikasa away from the two men with a sigh. The first time anyone in the wizarding world saw her and she was working in a bar! For Merlin's sake! And she doesn't seem to care either. At this point Mikasa is known as either a death eater's daughter or a bar girl, and she seems completely unfazed. What if she starts waving to drunks on the street? What that would do to the Dolohov name . . .

Dolohov leads Mikasa into Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop and gets her a cone of chocolate ice cream. He hands it to her. "Take this and promise me you will not associate with members of bars, you will not work in bars, and you will not interact with drunk people. If men like that come up to you in the street again you will act as though you have absolutely no idea who they are. Understood?"

"Yes, but . . ." Mikasa looks questioningly at the ice cream. "What is that?"

Dolohov's eyes widen slightly in surprise and he mentally berates himself. He needs to stop thinking that Mikasa is normal. She is not the ordinary child. Nothing that she says should surprise him any more. But, what kind of environment does one have to grow up in to not even know what ice cream is?

"It consists of milk mixed with sugar, cream, and a few other ingredients."

Behind the wall, things like cream and sugar were rare commodities reserved solely for the nobles. Mikasa takes the ice cream and hesitantly tastes it; it can't be that amazing-holy crap that is the most wonderful thing she has ever eaten in her entire life.

Dolohov watches Mikasa with amusement. She looks like a toddler who's never had sugar before. Mikasa finishes the cone in seconds. It was delicious, if only Eren could have tasted . . . her breath hitches. She feels ashamed. All this time, she's been living this charmed life, not thinking about Eren. How could she forget? Why isn't she trying harder to get home?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Mikasa knows the answer: she doesn't want to go back.

In that cursed world, in that place where every day was spent living in constant fear, where Eren was her only hope, she was not happy. She was gifted, and fought well, and helped others. She was everything the other trainees wanted to be, but she was not happy. Happy is impossible when everyone around you is dying day after day, when you live in constant fear of watching every single person you care for get ripped to pieces. But here . . .

Mikasa bites her lip, here in this world, with magic and dark lords and spells and pets, she is . . . actually happy. She always thought she needed Eren to feel anything, to tie her to life. But she doesn't. She is happy, and Eren could still be struggling to pass each day with no one to protect him. She doesn't deserve this happiness.

Dolohov is confused. One second Mikasa seems happy and is smiling more than he's ever seen, and all of a sudden, her face falls, and she looks miserable. What he wouldn't give to find out what she's thinking. Legilimency has already proven a failure, but what about Veritaserum? Mikasa would never forgive him, but to know what she's hiding . . .

Is that worth it? Is her hatred and mistrust worth the truth? A few weeks ago he would have said yes, absolutely, but now . . .

He glances back at Mikasa and she still looks like she's on the verge of tears. Forget veritaserum, Dolohov decides, he is Mikasa's guardian. He should be able to get her to tell him what she's thinking without ripping through her brain or feeding her highly controversial potions that may or may not cause brain damage.

"Mikasa, what's wrong?" he asks.

She bites her lip and looks away," Nothing."

His voice becomes icy, "Do you think I'm an idiot? You're obviously lying. I don't know why you feel such a need to keep secrets but I have other ways to find out and it would be foolish of you to think you can hide your thoughts forever."

He's right, Mikasa realizes. She has to tell him something. She looks up at him, her eyes full of self-hatred. "I am happy, but I don't deserve to be. People that are . . . very important to me are suffering while I am completely fine. I don't deserve this. They are the ones that should be happy. They are the ones that should be living a life without hunger and pain. Not me."

Guilt, pain, anger. Dolohov did not understand the emotions Mikasa was exhibiting, but he does now. But what kind of life did she live where being tortured by Voldemort and having a death eater as her guardian is considered conducive to happiness?

"Mikasa," Dolohov tells her, "If the people you care about would hate you for being happy, they aren't worth feeling guilty, and if they would want you to be happy, you should respect their wishes,"

Mikasa looks at Dolohov. Why is he telling her this? Why is he trying to make her feel better? Does he . . . care about her? No, of course he doesn't, but still, would he really care about her happiness if she was only interesting to him? If he didn't care about her at all? No, he wouldn't.

Dolohov is shocked when Mikasa's face breaks into a blinding smile. "Thank you," she tells him.

And they do not speak of the matter again.


End file.
